At HOP, Vietnam has never just been a source of inspiration. It is the reason we exist.

The whole idea for HOP began with a simple but powerful feeling – how do you bring the freshness, energy and soul of Vietnamese food to the UK in a way that still feels true to where it comes from? That question has been there from the very beginning, and it is still at the heart of everything we do.

That is where The Vietnam Diaries begins.

This was not about sitting in a test kitchen and trying to dream things up from afar. It was about going back. Back to the places, people and flavours that first lit the spark. Ten days of backstreet kitchens, early-morning markets, family tables, tiny food shops, coffee stalls and conversations that reminded us why Vietnam means so much to HOP in the first place.

We went back because we love Vietnam.

Simple as that.

But also because we wanted to learn again. To taste again. To notice the small things again. The herbs on the side of a bowl. The balance in a broth. The care in a sandwich. The rhythm of a coffee stall. The warmth of being welcomed into someone’s home.

Over time, it is easy for any brand to focus only on what happens in its own four walls. This trip was a chance to step back into the real thing – to reconnect with the food, the people and the pace of life that inspired HOP from day one.

And that mattered, because Vietnamese food is not just about flavour. It is about generosity. It is about freshness. It is about colour, texture, contrast and care. It is about everyday food done brilliantly.

What we found was a reminder that food in Vietnam feels alive.

In Saigon, that meant movement, energy and abundance. Coffee on the pavement. Sweet drinks everywhere. Tropical fruit. Street food on every corner. Food that feels spontaneous, social and full of life.

In Hoi An, it was detail. Precision. Craft. The kind of care that makes a bánh mì unforgettable. The sort of place where one element – a pâté, a butter, a pickle – can change everything.

In Hanoi, it was patience and restraint. Clean broth. Smoky grilled pork. Egg coffee. Dishes with heritage behind them, and people who have been making them the same way for years.

Across all three, there was one constant – food that feels fresh, vibrant and full of pride.

That stayed with us.

Some of what we learnt was emotional. The kindness of people. The warmth of being fed. The way food brings together families, workers, students and strangers. The way everyday meals can still feel special.

Some of it was sensory. Brighter herbs. Sharper pickles. Cleaner sauces. More contrast. More freshness. More life in every bite.

And some of it was simply a reminder that the best Vietnamese food does not need overcomplicating. It needs confidence. It needs balance. It needs the right details.

That is what made the trip so important. It did not give us a new identity. It brought us back to the one we already had.

When we came home, the trip did not stop. It changed shape.

The next chapter became Diary to Dish – the point where what we saw, tasted and felt in Vietnam began to show up in the food itself.

That might mean brighter herbs in a noodle salad. A better balance in a rice box. A bánh mì that takes more cues from Hoi An. Drinks and desserts that feel more rooted in Vietnam. Rice given the attention it deserves. Coffee that tells more of a story.

Not dishes imagined in isolation, but dishes shaped by real moments.

That is what makes this menu different. It was not built from moodboards or guesses. It came from the streets, kitchens and tables of Vietnam itself.